


Crimson Fury

by MusicalLuna



Category: Psych
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Menstruation, Originally Posted on Psychfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-12
Updated: 2008-08-12
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13510974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicalLuna/pseuds/MusicalLuna
Summary: Juliet calls in a very big favor.





	Crimson Fury

**Author's Note:**

> Shules Ficathon '08 entry.
> 
> Prompt: Menstruation
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Don't own 'em.

When Juliet woke, she knew today was going to suck with a suckiness that was unrivaled by any other suck.

There was a deep, distant ache in the area just below her gut that she knew was rapidly going to grow into something much more prevalent. _Excruciating_ might sufficiently describe it. The idea of even getting out of bed was already on the verge of being too much.

Forcing herself upright, she grimaced and wrapped an arm around her middle. The movement prodded the ache into a slow, steady throb. Definitely going to get worse. She had hoped to avoid this for just one more month (it was always _just one more month_ ), but apparently mother nature's revolver would not be so kind.

By the time she managed to make it into the bathroom she was ready to be back in bed and the throb had sharpened to a vicious stabbing sensation. Peering into the cabinets, she groaned and let her head fall against the cool porcelain of the sink counter.

There was only one left.

~ * * * ~

The phone rang, and Shawn's hand slunk out from beneath the covers to fumble around clumsily on the bedside table for it, hair the only other thing visible beneath the huge, poofy blue comforter. Dragging the phone back underneath, he mashed down a button and muttered groggily, “'lo...?”

“Shawn, I need you to do me a huge favor.” Shawn's brow scrunched in response to the statement as his still half-sleeping brain struggled to comprehend what was going on.

Thirty seconds later he said, “Jules?”

“Yes, Shawn,” she replied. “I need you to do me a favor.”

Having registered the identity of the caller, Shawn's brain began booting up more readily. “Yeah, sure, Jules, of course. Anything. What's up?”

“I don't think—I can go into work today,” she said and her voice was low and distinctly unhappy.

Shawn frowned, rubbing at his eyes. “What? Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“No, I'm...fine. It's just, you know, _that time_ ,” she said with a dark sort of significance.

Shawn blinked at the TV against the wall, trying to make his eyes come into focus. “That ti—? O _h_. Oh crap.”

“Yeah, I started this morning—” That was TMI. _Way_ TMI. “—and I just discovered that I'm out of tampons. I don't think I can get out of bed, let alone go to work or the store so would you mind...?” Shawn was torn between the horrifying idea of going shopping for feminine products at nine o'clock in the morning and intense sympathy because he could _hear_ the strain in Juliet's voice now and she had to be suffering to even consider missing work.

Horror won out briefly. “You want me to _what?_ ” he said, scrubbing a palm in one eye-socket.

“Shawn, please,” Juliet said, aggravation quickly working it's way into her voice. “Get over your juvenile discomfort and please help me out.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, free hand going up in an automatic defensive position.

“Thank you,” Juliet said wearily. “I'll be in the bedroom, just let yourself in, I know you know how.”

Shawn felt a twinge of pity. “I'll be over in a half hour.” Juliet mumbled something incoherent in response and then hung up on him. He sighed, letting the phone drop to the bed. Well, it couldn't all be fun and games, could it?

~ * * * ~

An hour and one mercifully deserted Walgreens trip later, Shawn arrived at Juliet's house, taking just a few minutes to pick the lock on the front door. He stepped inside, peering around and calling, “Jules?”

He received no reply.

He closed the door behind himself, toeing off his shoes and then heading deeper into the house. The barely audible sound of a television greeted him as he neared Juliet's room. “Jules?” he called again, warily pushing open her cracked bedroom door. She still didn't answer, curled up near the top of her bed, her head crammed between pillows and the blankets half pulled up around her body as though she'd covered herself and then kicked them off again. Creeping inside he said tentatively, “Jules, I brought the stuff you asked for.”

She didn't move, but he got a response this time, muffled by the pillows. “Thanks Shawn.” Her voice sounded brittle and distinctly wobbly and Shawn frowned, setting the bag on the floor and moving toward the bed.

“Jules, are you okay?” he asked. The quiet sound of sniffling sent a spasm through his heart and he shucked off his jacket, realizing this was going to be a little more than a quick store-run. “Jules,” he said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, a hand carefully settling on her hip.

Her head turned away, burying in the pillows but they were unable to stifle the sound of a quiet sob. Shawn's stomach bottomed out. “Hey, hey, hey,” he said, his voice low and tight with concern. “Don't cry, Jules...” Shifting a little further onto the bed, he worked his hands under her, tugging her up and into his lap and she whimpered, her hands clenching around his shirt, face pressed into his stomach.

“H—hurts,” she choked out quietly.

“Did you take something? Tylenol—Motrin—I dunno, that girl brand they advertise—” He began rubbing long, slow strokes up her pajama-clad back, needing to do _something_ for her.

“T—took some Exc—cedrin,” she told him. “Not h—helping yet.” She had calmed down a little bit, because while her words were hitching, the tears weren't in her voice anymore, though his shirt was still getting damper.

“Can I do anything?” he asked, practically begging. He wanted to fix her, to take the pain away, on himself, anything.

She shook her head, sniffling into his waist. “Just have to—wait.”

“Okay.” And though he hated it, he leaned back, pulled her close against him, and waited.

~ * * * ~

Twenty minutes later her gut-wrenching sniffles had faded away, her breathing soft and measured as she drifted off to sleep against his side. He was grateful for the change, because listening to her suffer and not being able to do anything was one of the worst feelings he'd ever experienced. It was just...torture.

Attention divided between watching her sleep and the soap opera on the television, he nearly jerked out of his skin when the phone rang. Snatching it up and mashing down the talk button before hardly half a ring had escaped, he held his breath, watching apprehensively as Juliet shifted, only to curl more tightly against his side. Breathing a slow sigh of relief he brought the phone to his ear, whispering, “Hello?”

“ _Spencer?_ ” was the incredulous response.

“Yeah, hi, Lassie,” he said, trying to keep his voice low enough so as not to disturb Juliet. “What's up?”

“Why the hell are you answering O'Hara's phone?” he demanded. “And where is O'Hara?”

“She's...not feeling well today, Lassie. Can you tell the Chief she won't be in to work?”

Lassiter was quiet for a long moment. “...Is she all right?”

A half-smile flickered onto Shawn's face. “Yeah, Lassie. She'll be okay.”

“Fine,” he said tersely. “I'll let the Chief know. But she had better not make this a habit.”

Shawn laughed softly and replied, “Trust me, she'll try not to.”

“Take care of her or I'll break your kneecaps, Spencer,” Lassiter muttered and hung up.

Shawn smirked and whispered to Juliet as he set the phone down, “Well he's a regular softie when it comes to you, Jules.”

~ * * * ~

Juliet resurfaced from sleep slowly and comfortably, cheek resting against something soft and warm. As it came back to her why she'd been asleep in the first place, she was relieved to realize that the agonizing pain from earlier was gone. Thank goodness. She breathed in a slight smile curving her lips when she recognized the scent of Shawn.

Her eyes opened slowly and his voice, more uncertain than she'd ever heard it, said, “Hey...how are you feeling?”

“Mmm,” she murmured, still muzzy from sleep. “Much better.”

His stomach sank a little beneath her head as he let out a relieved sigh. Gentle fingertips brushed along her scalp and she closed her eyes again, content to stay here, reveling in the lack of pain. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Couple of hours,” Shawn replied casually. “It's almost noon if you think you might—”

Her eyes suddenly snapped open and Shawn's hands held on firmly, preventing her from sitting up. “I forgot to call into work!” she breathed frantically.

“It's okay, Jules,” Shawn said, pressure firm on her shoulders. “Relax. I talked to Lassie. You're taking a sick day.”

The adrenaline that had flooded her system at the realization slowly began to seep back out and she let him push her back down against his body. “Really? You talked to him?”

Shawn smirked. “He was really disturbed by the fact that I answered your phone.”

Juliet rolled her eyes, settling slowly back into his stomach. “Thank you,” she finally mumbled.

“For what?” Shawn said, “Being your human pillow? Happy to be of service, Jules.” She could tell by the sound of his voice that he knew as well as she did that that wasn't what she was talking about.

“No,” she said and she felt him shift slightly. “Thank you for going to the store, for staying with me. I know you hated every minute of it.” She looked up at him just in time to see him roll one shoulder in a shrug.

“Not every minute,” he said.

She smiled and took a deep breath of Shawn's warm, heady scent, feeling his stomach rise and fall beneath the t-shirt he wore, his hand a comforting pressure on her hip.

Maybe today wasn't a total loss after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This story archived at <http://www.psychfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=895>


End file.
